


Lost and Found

by DragonNutt



Category: Xiaolin Showdown (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-10 22:24:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7863538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonNutt/pseuds/DragonNutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heroes, they say, can be either born or made. If that was really the case... then Dojo suspected they had their work cut out for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Strength

Master Fung had no reason to doubt Dojo’s sense of direction. The dragon had lived for at least fifteen centuries and had traveled the world thousands of times before; surely he knew what he was doing. Still, when the two landed in a barren field in Texas, populated only by a thick herd of cattle, the elder could not help but look around and ask, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” Dojo said, even while he frowned in confusion at the wall of cows. “There’s definitely a potential Xiaolin Dragon of Earth… somewhere around here. I can sense it.”

Master Fung slid down from the dragon and peered around, eyebrows furrowed and fingers clasped tightly together. Dojo shrank, slithered onto his shoulders, and elbowed lightly at his neck. “What are you worried about, ol’ blue eyes? You couldn’t have asked for easier pickings—there’s barely anyone out here! The chances of you getting it wrong are—”

Master Fung reached up and clamped the dragon’s jaws together. “Thank you, Dojo.” His own mouth pressed into a thin line. Xiaolin Dragons had not been chosen in his lifetime; this was completely new territory for him. And though there may be a thousand lessons in defeat, he could not afford to make a single error. The stakes were far too high.

Wriggling out of the elder’s grip, Dojo smirked. “I mean, you figured out Omi’s potential, didn’t you? Even before those weird little dots popped up on his head—”

The tension in Master Fung’s shoulders eased a bit, and his mouth curved upward. Omi had latched onto Master Fung the moment they’d found him orphaned and lost at the temple doorstep. (“Imprinted like a baby duck,” Dojo had joked.) Bright, talented, and so very eager to please, Omi’s potential as a Xiaolin Dragon was obvious to anyone who met him.

The elder shook his head. “We did not have to _find_ Omi; he found us.”

“Lucked out on that one, didn’t we?” Dojo nodded and pointed at a barn out on the horizon. “But I’m betting his first teammate will be easy pickings!”

-

“What kinda hogwash are you talkin’ ‘bout?” Mr. Bailey let the hay bale drop from his arms with a loud thud while he turned to stare down at Master Fung. “I reckon that sun has been bakin’ that bald head o’ yours, old timer.”

Master Fung opened his mouth to continue his well-rehearsed explanation, but Dojo chose the moment to pop out of his sleeves and say, “Hey! Watch your mouth, big guy!”

Mr. Bailey took a step back, mouth opening and closing a few times, and Master Fung sighed. Though Dojo’s interjection was not exactly welcome, it certainly saved him some time to prove the existence of mystical forces beyond the Texan man’s understanding.

“As I was saying,” the elder murmured calmly, pushing Dojo back into his sleeve, “we believe that one of your children may have the potential to join the Xiaolin Temple.” He glanced past Mr. Bailey and studied the three younger Baileys in question. While the oldest son seemed preoccupied at the pig pen, the other two wandered over to their father’s side and gawked at the strangely dressed newcomer.

“So what’ll we be doin’ at this super special monk school?” the girl asked skeptically, drumming her fingers on her jeaned hips. Though she hid it well under her annoyed glare, Master Fung sensed disquiet in the girl, almost like she didn’t seem comfortable in her own skin. Her long blonde hair was stuffed under her hat like it embarrassed her, and she rubbed at her mouth as if she hated the lipstick on it.

“Well, Miss Bailey—”

“Jessie.”

“Jessie, your duties at the Xiaolin Temple would be unique and extraordinary. You will battle against the forces of evil, who may take any shape or form. You would certainly gather strength of your own, both from the weapons you wield and the power within you, but I must emphasize—” He glanced back up at the father, “this duty is incredibly dangerous.”

The younger son snickered at the word “duty.” Master Fung ignored him. Instead his gaze drifted back toward the older son in the background, who had quietly taken over his father’s task of restacking the hay bales, occasionally glancing over at them but not speaking.

"So y'all're sayin' this'd be a full-time gig?" Jessie asked, eyebrow raised. "I'd have to leave home?"

"You would, indeed." Master Fung watched the father for any reaction, but Mr. Bailey still looked too flabbergasted at Dojo’s existence to pay much attention.  

Jessie, on the other hand, visibly perked up. "So how'd'ya pick who gets the job?"

The younger son stepped in front of her. "I reckon y'all need a strong hero type! I'm your fella, that's for sure!"

"Oh, sod off, Pat," the sister snarled, pushing him out of her way. "They need brawn _and_ brains, and there ain't been a thought in your head since third grade!"

A chorus of barks and distressed bellows cut through the siblings' squabble, and Master Fung glanced toward the paddock behind the barn. A cow and her calf pressed in terror against the fence, cornered by a barking German shepherd whose broken chain still dangled from its neck. At the sounds, the oldest son dropped his bale and broke into a run toward the paddock. Mr. Bailey muttered dazedly, "Uh, Pat, your dog broke out again-- a _daggum talkin’ lizard_ \--"

"He can wait, Pa!" Completely ignoring the noise, the younger son puffed out his chest and stood as high as he could over his sister. "Why would anyone pick a lil lady like you to fight evil when I can--"

"I ain't a lil lady!" Jessie shouted. "There ain't nothin' dainty 'bout me! I can take you down right here! Ready to lose to a girl in front o' your old man?"

Finally gathering his wits again, Mr. Bailey spun around to scowl at the paddock. "Jessie, Pat, your crazy dog--"

The oldest son leaped clear over the fence just as the calf broke into a panicked run. The dog charged, but before it could reach its prey, the oldest son snatched its collar and yanked it around, dodging snapping jaws. "Now y'all know that ain't a fair fight, partner!" he yelled, dragging the dog back.

Master Fung's eyebrows rose. "Who is that?”

Jessie looked back at her big brother, and her expression darkened immediately. "You gotta be kiddin' me--"

"That's just Clay." Pat waved a dismissive hand. "He ain't no hero-- just Daddy's special lil protégé, gonna inherit the ranch--"

"You hush your mouth, Pat," Mr. Bailey snapped.

Meanwhile, Clay dragged the dog to the fence and tied it to a post, expression calm even while the dog chomped down on his fingers and the cow ran in circles, threatening to run him over. Master Fung strolled toward the chaos, no longer listening to the bickering of the two younger siblings, who showed absolutely no concern for their big brother's safety. Mr. Bailey ran past Master Fung and hollered, "Git outta there, boy, before Bessie knocks ya flat--"

Clay did not holler back. After securing the dog, he turned to face the panicked cow, who nearly slammed into her own terrified calf in her effort to escape the barking. "Easy, Bessie," Clay said, stepping forward with his hands out, "I reckon you don't wanna hurt lil Billy, he's mighty frightened--"

"Boy! Git outta there!"

"Can't let her hurt the calf, Daddy," Clay said, voice still low and calm while he approached the cow, who panted and stomped her feet, pressed into the fence. "Easy, Bessie, you're just spooked, nothin' wrong with that." The cow tossed her head and bellowed, the whites in her eyes gleaming, but against Clay’s unthreatening presence, her breathing slowed.

Master Fung didn't realize he had been smiling, not until Clay reached the cow, patted at her shivering hide, and gently grabbed her halter. After a moment, Bessie sniffed and nibbled at his sleeve. The calf hobbled to its mother’s side, and Clay scratched its ears.

Mr. Bailey shook his head as if torn between pride and exasperation, and then he pointed at the barking dog and shouted, “Pat! What’d I say ‘bout your daggum mutt?” While his youngest son meekly snatched up the dog’s chain and dragged it from the paddock, Mr. Bailey took a deep breath and turned to Master Fung. “So. This fancy school o’ yours. Y’all say it’ll teach one o’ my kids to fight? How to be a man?”

Master Fung took a moment to ponder over his word choice. “Yes, among other things.”

Mr. Bailey watched his oldest son and drummed his fingers on his belt for a moment. Then, studying the elder far less flippantly than before, he said, “Well then, Mister Fung, maybe your tale ‘bout all that mystical nonsense is worth hearin’. Why don’t you and I have a lil talk inside?”

Master Fung would have much preferred to speak to Clay himself, but he nodded in agreement anyway. The two men made their way toward the farmhouse, and Clay watched them go, eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement.


	2. Courage

In hindsight, Dojo's assurance that finding the Dragon of Earth would be easy had been absolutely correct. Although convincing Mr. Bailey to let his favorite son leave the ranch had been quite the challenge, at least Master Fung had managed to select the right candidate within minutes.

Finding the Dragon of Fire within Japan's most populated city proved to be a whole other matter.

"Don't give me that look!" Dojo pouted under the elder's glare and scooted back into his sleeve. "All I do is track down the source of magic; it's _your_ job to narrow it down to one kid! It's just like Shen Gong Wu hunting—I find the hunting ground, and you do the hunting!"

Master Fung shook his head, sighed, and began the trek through downtown. After several hours of what Dojo called "aimless wandering" and Master Fung stubbornly called "questing," he finally came to a stop in the same intersection where he started. He frowned at the Tohomiko Electronics skyscraper overviewing the street. He had perused all the nearby parks and schools, but nothing had stood out to him in quite the same way as this building.

"Perhaps an employee…?" he murmured.

"Not likely," Dojo said. "Xiaolin Dragons function best when they're all around the same age. Helps the dynamic." At the elder's blank stare, he clarified, "You're looking for a kid. Maaaaaybe a teen." His ears flicked upward, and he pointed at the skyscraper's glass doors. "Hey, speaking of which!"

A silver flying saucer burst from the double doors of Tohomiko Electronics, pursued by a short, bespectacled man clutching a little gray box. Master Fung sighed. "That's not a child, Dojo. That's an adult."

Dojo, who always had trouble recognizing the difference between child humans and very small adult humans, blinked and frowned. "Are you sure?" Then at the sound of buzzing, the dragon yelped and ducked into the elder's sleeves. The saucer careened toward Master Fung, who lashed out a hand and caught it before it could collide with his skull.

Blinking down at the strange metallic device for a moment, he held it out for the man, who rushed toward them and babbled, "I am terribly sorry! My UFO-bot is supposed to avoid hitting players—must be malfunctioning—broke out and—terribly sorry! It nearly hit you!"

"What is it?" Master Fung asked, handing over the buzzing device.

The man fidgeted with its underside until it went silent. "My newest toy, just a prototype—kids love aliens, thought I could implement that into my new video game—my daughter thinks it's silly, zombies and aliens in one game, perhaps I should reconsider…"

Master Fung only understood about half of what the man had said, but he was not about to admit it. "Your game?" He glanced up at the building. "Are you…?"

The man bowed. "Toshiro Tohomiko. So nice to meet you! Again, terribly sorry for my carelessness; I would be happy to treat you to lunch as my apology!"

"That will not be necessary; no one was hurt—"

Master Fung's words cut off when Dojo elbowed him in the ribs underneath his robes. The dragon whispered, "Daughter! He said he has a daughter!"

Though Master Fung suspected that Dojo was far more interested in the prospect of free food than in meeting the hypothetical daughter, he did not argue. To Toshiro, he said, "Ah, though if you insist, I will humbly accept your offer. Perhaps you could tell me more about these… video games of yours?"

* * *

During the stroll to the nearby restaurant, Toshiro showed endless enthusiasm explaining video games to Master Fung. As the man gushed about the growing popularity of something called the "internet," the elder couldn't help but notice that Toshiro's energy and optimism reminded him of Omi, and he wondered if maybe the Dragon of Fire could be an adult after all.

After the two selected a table with three seats, Toshiro asked, "What brings you to Tokyo? Were you touring the city?"

Master Fung glanced around the restaurant for any children or teenagers before answering. "I am seeking out a student to become the next Xiaolin Dragon." When Toshiro tilted his head, he folded his hands and added, "I am Master Fung, a teacher at the Xiaolin Temple. We protect the balance between the Xiaolin side and the Heylin side- good and evil, essentially. We elders predicted that the balance is about to shift, and Dojo selected me to seek out future students and help them rise to their destiny."

He paused to gauge Toshiro's reaction, waiting for the same disbelief that Mr. Bailey had given him. Instead, Toshiro seemed puzzled but intrigued. "Really? And what makes someone qualified to become a, uh, Xiaolin Dragon?"

Before Master Fung could answer, a collage of bright colors to his left caught his eye, and he turned his head. A girl in a pink wig stared back at him, barely concealing a confused frown and clutching a strange, rectangular device. After dropping it into her neon green purse and granting Master Fung a once-over, she said to Toshiro, "Um, Papa, if you had a business meeting today, you could have given me an FYI."

Toshiro's eyes lit up, and he jumped to his feet. "Kimiko! This is Fung-san—er, Master Fung, a teacher at the Xiaolin temple. I invited him to join us for our lunch. Master Fung, this is my daughter, Kimiko!"

The surprise dulled to disappointment as Kimiko's eyes started to glaze over. "Uh-huh." Her hand reached back into her purse to pull out the little device, and while she typed on it, she muttered, "So, is this a PR thing or…?"

Leading his daughter to her seat, Mr. Tohomiko shook his head, beaming and oblivious to her dimming mood. "No, no, this is not a business meeting. Master Fung has been telling me about the Xiaolin temple, a school for elite students who protect the balance between good and evil. It is quite fascinating!"

"Sounds like it," Kimiko said, even though she sounded anything but enthused. Under her father's gaze, she sighed, dropped her device back into her purse, and gave the two men a bored, forced smile.

Master Fung's shoulders sank a bit. The girl was almost as short as her father and even thinner, certainly not the image of a sturdy Xiaolin Warrior. And though the elder certainly knew better than to judge someone by their appearance, her attitude was certainly not helping the first impression.

"Ah, yes," he said, lifting his chin a bit, "as I was saying to your father, the Xiaolin temple hosts a group of Chosen Ones every few centuries or so, whenever the Heylin side runs rampant. The Chosen Ones each wield an element, such as earth, water, fire…"

Kimiko's eyes started to wander, and her vacant expression turned into a dull frown.

Master Fung's mouth pressed into a thin line, but he stubbornly continued, "The main mission of the Xiaolin Dragons is to keep evil at bay, most commonly by preventing them from obtaining the Shen Gong Wu—"

A booming crash behind him made him turn. At the other end of the restaurant where Kimiko had been staring, a man in a business suit stood high over a cowering waitress and bellowed, "Do you have any idea who I am?! I've been waiting _hours_ for my food, and you haven't even gotten my drink yet!"

Though the sudden commotion caught the attention of every person in the building, the other patrons shrank in their seats and looked away, pretending not to notice. The waitress stammered, "I'm t-terribly sorry, sir, I'm not your server, but I can go find her— we're just very busy, sir—"

"Do you know how much time I've wasted waiting for you lazy kids to do your job?" The man lurched toward the girl, who stumbled against an empty chair. "Get me your boss! I'll have you fired!"

"Oh dear," Toshiro murmured, hunching his shoulders and grimacing apologetically at Master Fung. "Perhaps it would be best if we had lunch somewhere quieter—"

"I'm so sorry, sir," the waitress whimpered. "We will gladly get your food out for you immediately, sir, terribly sorry—"

"Your little 'sorrys' aren't going to make things better! I make more money every day than you do in a year! I could shut down this entire building with a snap of my fingers for your pathetic—"

A glass cup sailed across the room and slammed into the back of the man's head. As glass and tea showered onto his shoulder pads, he whirled around, eyes bulging and toupee slipping. Kimiko stood on a table and glared right back at him, another glass in hand. Pointing at him, she shouted, "You've only been here a couple minutes, you lying pig! I watched you sit down!"

The other customers sank down further into their seats. The waitress fled into the back rooms. Nearly knocking over another table, the man slammed his foot into the ground like an enraged bull. "This is none of your business, little girl! Know your place!"

"I'll know my place when you learn some freaking manners!" Kimiko threw the other glass, and it smashed against the man's arm.

"Kimiko!" Toshiro gasped. The suited man charged across the room, and Master Fung rushed forward to intervene, but Kimiko was faster. Leaping from the table and bracing her legs on the floor, she caught the man's fist. In a single, swift movement, she flung his enormous body over her and brought him to a booming crash onto the floor.

Dusting off her frilled blouse, she slung her purse over her shoulder. "Honestly," she said with a toss of her hair, "some people are so _spoiled_."

"Little brat—" The man heaved himself to his feet, and Kimiko raised her fists with a smirk, but before either could lash out again, Toshiro stepped between them.

"That's enough." His voice was nearly a snarl while he glared up at the much larger man. "You will keep your hands _off_ my daughter."

Kimiko's grin fell. "Papa, I've got this."

The suited man's entire demeanor shriveled in an instant. "Tohomiko-san! Th-this is _your_ daughter?"

Toshiro pushed his glasses higher onto his nose. "I believe an apology is in order, isn't it? Perhaps from you this time, and not that poor little waitress?"

"Papa, I had it…" Kimiko's shoulders sank while she watched her previously furious opponent drop to his knees in fear of her father, babbling apologies to everyone in the building. Scuffing one of her glittering shoes against the carpet, she crossed her arms, wandered back to her table, and dropped back into her chair with a pout. "I didn't need help," she muttered.

"That much was clear," said Master Fung, sitting back down at her side and folding his hands in his lap. "Though your strategy was certainly… more _chaotic_ than necessary, your intentions were quite noble."

"Thanks," she grumbled. Sitting up straighter, her hands flailed in a helpless gesture. "I just— I know Papa was trying to help, but I don't need him to _save_ me, you know? I can take care of myself! But with Papa being all rich and important and stuff, it's like… All I'm ever going to be is 'Toshiro Tohomiko's daughter.'" She sagged in her seat. "I just want to be 'Kimiko.'" Face flushing, she brought a hand to her mouth and looked back up at Master Fung. "S-sorry, that was a little TMI— I mean, I don't even know you—"

"That's quite alright." Master Fung rested his folded hands on the table, leaving room for Dojo to slither out of his sleeve. While the girl gasped, the dragon studied her for a moment, drummed a claw on his chin, and nodded in approval. Master Fung gave the Chosen One a fond smile and said, "Kimiko, if you are interested, I might have a solution to your problem."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a bit with this chapter since I had to balance "did my research on Japan" with "not stereotyping people in Japan." Their culture puts a big emphasis on politeness, so it might seem a bit odd to have a random dude throwing a hissy fit in a public place, but 1) since service employees are supposed to treat patrons like they're always right, I wouldn't be at all surprised if some people took advantage of it, and 2) if nothing else, you can assume he's a foreigner.
> 
> Fun fact: I work retail, and I once had a fifty-year-old man threaten to call my district manager... because someone else got to my register before he did, and apparently that was my fault. I've also had at least three customers fuss at me because an (imaginary) item was not in my store. Though I've never worked in a restaurant, I'm absolutely certain that yelling at a waitress for equally stupid reasons is a depressingly common occurrence.


	3. Kindness

When Dojo landed in front of an elite private school, Master Fung stepped down from the dragon with far more confidence than he had in Texas or Tokyo. The other elders had assured him that his quest to find the next generation of Xiaolin Dragons would take months, and yet he had tracked down two Chosen Ones within days. Omi, Clay, and Kimiko would all grow into exceptional warriors, and Master Fung was certain that their fourth teammate would be no different.

However, before he could stroll through the school's front doors, Dojo hopped onto his shoulders and tugged at his shirt collar. "Hold on, blue eyes, this might be a bad idea."

Master Fung raised an eyebrow. "You sensed another Xiaolin Dragon near here, did you not? Surely we'll find them in this school. We are looking for another child, right?"

Dojo gave a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, but here's the thing: you might have missed the memo, but in today's society, people tend to frown on old men wandering alone on school grounds and looking for a kid to take home with him. Or so I've heard."

Master Fung raised an eyebrow. "Old?"

"Uh." Dojo gave a sheepish smile and backpedaled. "Well, they don't like _dashing_ young men like yourself wandering alone on the property, either, obviously—" His stammer cut off when his nose twitched. Lifting his head, the dragon sniffed the air. "Ooh! I smell a baking class! Hold on—" He sprang down from Master Fung's shoulders, eyes and nose already trained on an open window into the school. "Maybe I could, uh, infiltrate? Sneak inside and, uh, find the Chosen One for you?"

"And grab a snack while you're at it, I presume?"

"Great idea! Glad you thought of it." Dojo did not wait for Master Fung's rebuttal; the smell of food brought him clambering through the window, into the school, and out of sight.

Master Fung briefly considered ignoring the dragon's concerns. However, before his hand could touch the doorknob, a chorus of distant screams caught his attention. Stepping down from the front steps, he followed the noises to the other side of the building and out onto a huge playground, where chaos had erupted.

An army of humanoid machines buzzed around the field, chasing teachers and students alike. Children stumbled and sobbed while the teachers tried in vain to herd them toward the buildings. Amidst the panicked shrieks, screams, and buzzing, the sound of delighted laughter rose above the disorder. A scrawny, red-headed boy clambered onto the monkey bars, stood as high as he could, and shouted, "Yes! That's right, underlings! Cower before your new ruler!"

Barely any of the surrounding children heard him, too busy fleeing the hovering contraptions. Master Fung stood still, mouth open in shock. Though he knew he could bring order to the situation in moments, he silently reminded himself not to intervene while he watched the redhead. Clay and Kimiko had both proven themselves against a villain; surely someone else in the crowd would do the same.

The boy sneered and tapped at his wristwatch. At his command, the buzzing machines soared in circles above the playground, chasing any stragglers that hadn't fled into the building. Master Fung held his breath, waiting for a hero to rise. Instead, the last handful of children dashed to the doors, pushing each other out of the way to get inside.

Waving his fists in the air in triumph, the boy yelled, "Aww yeah! My robots always come out on top! Guess who's the new ruler of the playground? Me! Evil boy genius, J—"

"JACKIE!"

The boy's gloat broke into a high-pitched scream as he lost his balance and toppled off the monkey bars. Slapping a ruler against her own hand, a thin elderly lady stomped onto the playground, passed Master Fung without a glance, and cast a shadow over the redheaded troublemaker.

"Mrs. Cornhaven!" The boy cowered under the woman's glare but managed to clamber to his feet. "You can't tell me what to do— You haven't been my teacher since first grade—" He screamed again when the woman slapped her ruler against the monkey bars.

Mrs. Cornhaven grabbed him by the ear. "Jackie! I think we've all had enough of your incessant bullying! Turn off your toys and go to the principal's office!"

"I'm not bullying! I'm just scaring these losers to make them do what I want— Ow!" The boy yelped and whined while the teacher dragged him by the ear back into the school, slamming the door behind them. The buzzing machines puttered and dropped into the mulch, leaving Master Fung alone on the deserted playground.

The elder stared blankly at the school doors for a few moments, but the befuddled silence did not last long. A window cracked open, and Dojo sprang out, clutching an armful of cupcakes and cookies. Licking at the frosting on his jaws, he slithered to Master Fung and said, "So I heard there was a ruckus out here. Did you find a Chosen One?"

Master Fung dazedly gestured to the empty grounds. "One of the students attacked the others, but none of the kids tried to stop him…" Eyebrows furrowed, he scooped Dojo off the ground. "What does it mean? Should we keep looking?"

"Ah." Dojo nodded and stuffed a cookie into his mouth. Muffled, he answered, "Sounds like a dud to me."

"What do you mean?"

"A lot of people out there have some magical potential, but not all of them have _hero_ potential, you know?" Dojo gulped down the cookie and wiped crumbs off his nose. "Happens all the time. You go through the trouble to track down an element, but whoever has it never proves themselves. Sometimes they aren't ready. Sometimes they aren't worthy." When Master Fung's face sank with disappointment and concern, the dragon reached up and awkwardly patted the elder's cheek. "It's alright, blue eyes. I've tracked down a lot of duds in my lifetime. It's better to come out empty-handed than to pick the wrong person."

Master Fung stared at the locked double doors of the school for a moment before he finally sighed and let his companion clamber back to the ground. After Dojo expanded to full size and popped the remains of his sugary horde into his enlarged mouth, he gulped, shrugged, and shook his head. "Still, it's a shame. I guess we'll have to wait another generation to get a Dragon of Metal…"

* * *

No matter how many reassurances Dojo gave him, and no matter how many stories the dragon told of previous generations and their fruitless hunts for Xiaolin Dragons, Master Fung still found his fingers gripping a little too tightly in his sleeves while they drifted southward. Had he given up too easily? Had he missed an act of heroism? "I was certain there were four…"

Dojo nodded sympathetically. "It's probably for the best; four is an unlucky number. We usually only have two or three Chosen Ones at a time, anyway. The balance of good and evil would need to go seriously bonkers for us to need _four_ Xiaolin Dragons all at once. Something really bad, like Wuya coming back, or Chase Young, or both at the same time!"

Master Fung's body vibrated from Dojo's involuntary shiver, and then he glanced down at the shimmering beach below. Between the ocean and the tropics, an enormous city glistened underneath them. While they passed the unmistakable statue of Christ the Redeemer, Master Fung asked in a puzzled tone, "Where are we going? Did you sense another Chosen One?"

Dojo sniffed the air. "No luck, I'm afraid. Not a trace of Metal or Wood anywhere—well, I mean, other than the _real_ metal and wood, since it's a city near the forest and everything—"

"What are we doing here?"

"Oh, right." Dojo turned his head and beamed at the elder. "I thought my favorite monk needed a little cheering up! Remember how much you loved the circus when you were little? There's a big one touring right here in Rio de Janeiro. How about we celebrate your success and have a little fun?" Despite his disheartened mood, Master Fung smiled fondly, and the two coasted downward.

Within moments of landing within the field of brightly colored tents, the elder made a beeline straight for the first magician he could spot. Trying and failing to hide his delighted nostalgia, he waited behind a crowd of spectators and watched the performer pull a rabbit from a hat— a little clichéd, but certainly a classic.

However, to both Master Fung's and the magician's surprise, the audience did not seem impressed. A few children fidgeted, and a man even booed. The magician, beefy underneath his multicolored wig, pursed his lips and glanced around before exclaiming, "Aha! Looks like I'll need a little help for my next trick." He called out to a clown busy sweeping up garbage near one of the food stands. "Hey, Bobo, get over here!"

The clown, far younger than the magician and wearing a blue wig, glanced up and trudged toward the crowd, clutching his broom. His green eyes were wary and annoyed while the magician pulled him into an awkward side hug and called out, "This is my assistant, Bobo! He cleans up after the animals, so around here, we call him Poo-boy! Say hi to Poo-boy, everybody!"

A big red smile had been painted onto the boy's face, but even it couldn't hide the incredibly angry scowl he directed at the magician. The mean-spirited icebreaker certainly did the trick, though, because several in the audience laughed. Master Fung frowned; he knew that silly and embarrassing antics were often part of the clown act, but it was clear that the boy had not signed up for this.

"Now, watch!" The magician released his unwilling assistant, pulled a wine bottle out of his sleeve, and held it up for the audience. "Before your very eyes, I shall make this bottle… disappear!" Master Fung, immediately sensing danger, tried to push through the crowd to the front. Seeming to sense the same, the clown's grip tightened on his broom, and his legs shifted under him into a fighting stance. As the magician lifted the prop into the air, the clown clamped his eyes shut and forced himself to stay still. The magician swung the bottle down and smashed it against the boy's head.

A few members of the crowd gasped, but several others laughed and jeered when the clown dropped to the ground. One little girl started crying. Just as Master Fung reached the front of the crowd, the clown rolled to his feet and kneeled in front of the crying girl. He blew a raspberry at her, and when she gasped in surprise, he smiled and handed her a flower from his sleeve.

Not wanting to ruin the charade, Master Fung waited while the clown stood and took a dramatic bow. The crowd clapped and cheered. The magician stepped forward and shoved the boy out of his way, hollering, "Let's have a big round of applause for Poo-boy! Now who wants to pick a card? Any card?"

Despite his outrage, Master Fung held his tongue. With the crowd otherwise distracted, the clown grabbed his broom and snuck away from the crowd. The elder turned to follow him, but Dojo poked out of his shirt collar and asked, "What's on your mind, blue eyes?"

"I'm not sure…"

While the clown ducked around a corner, yanking off his wig and clutching at his head in pain, Master Fung quietly strolled after him down the narrow space between the two tents. "Dojo, are you certain there are no Xiaolin Dragons near here?"

"Positive. I was kinda getting a Wood vibe while we were traveling over Europe, but that was way too fuzzy, which usually means the wielder is too young or too old anyway— Hey, wait a minute." Dojo climbed onto the elder's shoulder and crossed his arms. "Why are you asking? Just because that kid took a blow to the noggin, that doesn't mean he's special, Master Fung. We're looking for _heroes_ , remember?"

"I just…" Master Fung slowed when the boy sat down at the other side of the tent, leaned against a barrel, and started picking glass out of his wig. "I sense something about him."

"But _I_ don't." Dojo curled around the elder's head and peered down at him. "I know you're worried about what happened at that private school, but you can't just pick random replacements off the street. Be honest, Master Fung: do you _really_ sense something about this kid, or do you just feel sorry for him?"

Master Fung stopped in place, startled that he did not have an immediate answer. The boy rested his forehead against his palms, digging his fingers into his scruffy brown hair. The elder sighed and took a step back. "Perhaps you're right—"

Something sharp pressed into his back, and a voice snarled, "Empty your pockets, old man."

Fung frowned again, more with annoyance than anything. He was normally quite adept at predicting threats before they arrived, but his own turmoil had distracted him. How shameful. Glancing behind him, he did not bother to hide his exasperation. "For your own safety, gentlemen, I would advise against your next course of action."

Three beefy men stood behind him (and the fact that they were three instead of one made Master Fung's failure to detect them even more embarrassing). The one with a knife to the elder's back snarled, "Talk back again and you're dead!"

Master Fung considered himself far too mature to roll his eyes, so he refrained. "I'm afraid my money will be of no use to you, so at best, this is a waste of your time. However, I can hardly let you leave since you have clear intent to do someone harm."

"I said shut up—" The thief's voice cut short at the sound of something hitting the ground behind him. The three men glanced back, but all they saw was a lone, brightly colored clown shoe. "What the—?"

The tent walls billowed in a sudden gust of wind. Dojo shrieked. Before Master Fung could take action, the clown boy somersaulted over his head and kicked the armed thief in the jaw. The three men dropped back, and the boy landed on bare feet. Kicking the knife aside, he smirked and said, "Mugging tourists? See, it's guys like you that ruin Rio's rep." He glanced at Master Fung. "Don't worry, dude. I can handle these bozos."

Master Fung tried very hard not to send a gleefully smug smile upward at Dojo, who gawked while the clown knocked over two of the thieves in a spinning kick and punched the third in the gut. One man took a swing at him from below, but the boy jumped to the side with ease. The first thief charged and grabbed at his costume to pin him down. Wind coasted between the tents a second time, and the clown rolled, throwing the thief against a tent wall. The man smacked into a tent pole; with a crack, the wall caved and tumbled down.

Onlookers screamed at the sudden collapse. When the sun lit the makeshift alleyway, two of the thieves fled, but the one who had fallen into the tent stood and pointed at the boy. "That clown attacked me! He threw me into the tent! Arrest him! He's a bratty little monster!"

The growing crowd gasped and flinched away from the boy, whose costume had torn in the scuffle. Master Fung stepped forward and said, "No, he was defending me." However, for once, his calmness hindered him. No one could hear his voice over the thief's shouts.

The magician, who was still failing to impress his own audience and seemed eager for a distraction, rushed to the scene. Grabbing the clown by the arm, he yelled, "Poo-boy! How dare you attack one of our devoted customers!"

The clown braced his legs under him as if ready to kick his own coworker. "The name is _Raimundo_ , you fat phony, and I didn't attack anyone—"

The magician tried to shake him, but since the boy's balance was too steady, he resorted to yelling again. "I've had enough of your attitude, Poo-boy. The ringmaster will have you fired for this!"

"He was _defending_ me," Master Fung said, almost angry enough to shout, but he went unheard yet again.

The boy yanked his arm free. "Go ahead! Get me fired! Then maybe you can clean up after the animals yourself since all your talent is _crap_!" With that, he bolted. Master Fung tried to rush after him, but as the wind coasted over them a third time, the boy disappeared into the crowd.

Atop his head, Dojo's grip loosened, and he chuckled nervously. "Huh. I gotta say, today is not going as planned." When Master Fung started a resolute walk after the boy, the dragon glanced down at him. "Where are we going?"

"I have stood idle quite enough," the elder said, using his every sense of restraint to not push people out of his way while he moved. "I did not help Clay or Kimiko against their foes, I did not defend those children at the playground, and I allowed this boy to battle alone, outnumbered three to one. I believe it is time that I do the fighting myself."

"Oh. Um. Okay." Dojo slithered down from Master Fung's head, but before he could duck into his shirt, he asked, "Uh, what exactly are you fighting?"

Master Fung smiled at him. "Tradition."

* * *

It took a troublingly long time to find the circus's changing rooms. Master Fung feared that he might have arrived too late, or perhaps he had gone the wrong direction. Thankfully, his intuition proved correct; just as he arrived, a young teenage boy slapped the tent flap open and stomped out, recognizable only by the angry glint in his eyes. The costume and face paint were gone, replaced by a white hoodie pulled over his head.

"Raimundo?" said Master Fung.

"Huh?" The boy looked up, and his hood dropped to his shoulders. At the sight of the elder, his eyebrows lifted, and the anger evaporated from his face. "Oh! Dude, I'm so sorry, I totally bailed on you!" He rushed to Master Fung, eyes round with concern. "Those guys didn't come after you again, did they? They didn't hurt you, right?"

"I assure you, I am quite unharmed," Master Fung said with a kind smile. "Though to say that I appreciated your rescue would be an understatement."

Raimundo grinned, and he lifted his hands to rest them behind his head. "Hey, no biggie, old timer. That's how I roll."

"I merely hope that your brave actions did not cost you your job."

Raimundo's smile dropped. His shoulders tensed, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Hey, it's… that's whatever." Attempting bravado, he shrugged dismissively. "Two of my big sisters work the trapeze act anyway; they can probably talk the boss out of it. That magician guy has only been here a few weeks, and no one likes him, so... if anyone's getting kicked out, it'll probably be him." He gave a forced thumbs-up. "So don't worry. I'll be a clown 'til the day I die. Woohoo."

Master Fung folded his hands in front of him. "You do not seem to like it here."

"It's fine. I mean…" Raimundo scuffed his bare foot in the dirt. "I was kinda expecting something different, I guess. I don't know if you can tell, but I'm like, _really_ athletic—I work out a lot—and I thought they'd make me an acrobat, you know? But they said I'm not old enough, child labor laws, liability stuff, blah blah blah, so… Here I am. A job's a job, and we need the money— Uh." His face flushed, and he stepped back. "I mean we don't _need_ the money— We have food and stuff. It's just… nine people in one house get expensive, you know?"

"It's a big family," Master Fung said, nodding in agreement.

"Yeah." A fond smile passed over Raimundo's face for a moment, but then he gazed downward. "We'll be fine. Like I said, it's whatever. We were saving up to get the twins another bed—they're getting too old to share theirs—but it's fine. If I get fired, they can have my bed or something. We'll work it out."

"I am sure you will," said Master Fung with another nod. After a moment of studying the boy, he smiled again. "I would like to make an offer for your heroic actions today, Raimundo. I cannot give you a bed, exactly—"

"Don't worry about it, old timer, you don't owe me any stuff—"

"I am not offering you any _stuff_ ; I am offering you an _opportunity_." He heard a muffled noise of protest from within his shirt, but he ignored it. "My name is Master Fung. I am a teacher at the Xiaolin temple, and I have been looking all over the world for someone just like you."

Raimundo blinked. "Me?"

Master Fung reached into his sleeve and yanked at Dojo's tail to silence him. "It is my duty to train the next generation of Xiaolin Dragons, noble warriors who will wield the elements at their fingertips. I believe you could become one of these warriors." Master Fung lifted his hand, palm upward, feeling the breeze drifting between them. "The Xiaolin Dragon of _Wind_."

Dojo made another muffled sound, this time one of outrage. Raimundo either didn't hear him or didn't care. His eyes lit up, and he babbled, "R-Really? This is like a real place, right? You're not yanking my chain? Wind? A warrior? Me?" Though Master Fung could detect hints of justified skepticism in Raimundo's voice, it practically drowned under the unrestrained joy, as if something in the boy's heart had finally lifted into place and made _sense_. "Y-yeah! Yeah, I can do that! I mean, I guess I need to figure out more about it, know what I'm getting into, make sure it's real and not the worst prank ever—"

"Of course," said Master Fung. "Quite sensible."

"I'd have to… I'd have to ask my family." Raimundo's shoulders and mood sank a bit. "I'm not sure what they'll say."

"You are certainly free to consult them," Master Fung said with a bow. "Just as I will do with the monks back home. They can be quite stubborn when it comes to breaking tradition."

"Y-yeah, okay." Raimundo did some awkward pacing back and forth, like he wasn't really sure what to do with his feet. "So, so, how do I learn more about this, uh, Xiaolin gig? Are there any books I can read?"

"I have a scroll." From his pocket, Master Fung pulled out a small scroll identical to the ones he had left with Kimiko and Clay. "And I can bring you some more. This one is brief, but it has a mailing address. I am sure we will stay in touch."

"Sure thing, dude." Still a little overwhelmed with his plethora of emotions, Raimundo stumbled back after taking the scroll. "Yeah, I'll… I'll talk to the fam and let you know, okay?"

"I hope to hear from you soon." Master Fung bowed again, and Raimundo awkwardly bowed back before dazedly spinning around and starting his walk back home. The elder tried not to chuckle too loudly when he saw the boy break into a run, whooping and springing into the air.

" _Wind_?"

Master Fung sighed when Dojo popped out of his sleeve and gave him a look of utter disgust. "A _Western_ element? You know, I'm starting to wonder if that Texas guy was right, and the sun really did bake your head too long."

"I assure you, Dojo, my head is not at all baked."

"How are you going to explain this to the other monks? 'Hey guys, I found a circus clown and gave him a random element that we've never had before'? There are only five Wu Xing elements, Master Fung, and Wind is not one of them! You're not allowed to just—"

"We're not allowed to raise babies at the temple, either," Master Fung said with a smile, "but that certainly did not stop us."

"Omi is different. He's a Chosen One!"

"So is Raimundo, now that I've picked him."

"He—" Dojo paused mid-rant, clawed finger still raised in protest. After a moment, he scowled. "Touché." He crossed his arms and shook his head. "I don't know, big guy. Bad things happen when the wrong kids come to the temple. What if Raimundo learns all our secrets and then turns Heylin?"

"I am sure Raimundo would never dream of turning Heylin."

"If you say so." Slumping in defeat, Dojo rested his arms on the elder's shoulders. "Well, if I know anything, it's that you won't change your mind now that it's made up." He looked out toward the coastline. "So I hope you're right."

"I usually am." Master Fung followed Dojo's gaze and watched the sky's colors shift in the sunset. Though Omi, Clay, Kimiko, and Raimundo were different in so many ways, they all carried the hearts of Xiaolin Dragons. For better or worse, their generation would be unlike anything the world had seen before. For their sake, he merely hoped the world was ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am quite attached to the idea that Raimundo worked at the circus as a kid but absolutely loathed it. It gives him way more incentive for him to leave for the Xiaolin temple than if he'd had a blast as an acrobat, which seems to be the more common headcanon. Also, the fact that XC changed his fear from "jellyfish" to "becoming a clown" fills me with joy. So many symbolic implications.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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